


20 minutes til curtain

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Dad Harry, Dunkirk, Family, Fluff, Kidfic, M/M, dad louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 17:12:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10701456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Harry loves making promises that he can't always keep, unless they're regarding his family.--Or the one where Harry and Louis' daughter has a ballet recital, and Harry almost doesn't make curtain call.





	20 minutes til curtain

**Author's Note:**

> Storytime: I was hacked???  
> Just kidding. I've decided after a lot of thinking to repost most of my fics. I deleted them at 2am in an angry, emotional hizzy and then of course woke up full of regret. SO. Minus a few of the older ones that were never really good anyway, here are my fics again. I apologize for all the e-mails you've gotten from me today. I'm going to just pretend I'm not upset over the lost comments and kudos. I'm fine. Really! Totally fine. But here they are again! Thank you for all the love you have given me. I’m not as invested in fic writing as I’ve been in the past, but who knows if I’ll get back into it.
> 
>  
> 
> \--  
> For context, Harry is a famous singer/actor, and Louis is not. This takes place during the summer while Harry is filming Dunkirk, and it jumps around a bit but I hope it makes sense. They're married with three children.

“Jessa’s ballet recital is at six tonight,” Louis said, dunking his tea bag from his white mug, cursing softly as the tea sloshed onto the marble. Lips pursed, he stood from the laptop at the kitchen counter, rifling through the drawers, sucking his finger on his thumb where the tea was exceptionally hot when it had spilled onto his hand.

“Bottom drawer beside the sink,” Harry’s raspy voice said, the speakers making his vocals sound even slower and deeper than usual. Louis squatted down, murmuring an _Aha_ before he took out a dish towel, standing back up to mop up the spill, trying his hardest to not snap at Harry, whose lips were twitching slightly.

“And I know, I’ll be there, love. Always am. She nervous?” Harry watched Louis clean up his spilled tea, his lips pursed in a small smile. Louis looked up at his laptop screen, rolling his eyes at Harry’s fond expression.

“A little, but she’ll be fine. She’s like her Daddy, she’s got lots of confidence in her.”

Harry smiled, and despite his clear exhaustion, it was real and genuine. It was early in France, but even earlier in London, the sun barely being able to beat through the dark morning clouds. The house was quiet, the girls still asleep, and Louis was happy to receive a video call from his husband despite the floor that was cold under his toes and his arms that were covered in goosebumps. He had on a pair of Harry’s flannel sweatpants and a grey t-shirt that was so worn in you couldn’t even read what it said on the front, but it was comfortable and the last thing Harry had thrown in the wash before he left to film, so Louis wore it anyway, despite the holes and the frayed strings.

“You tired, bub? What time are you starting filming today?” Louis asked, taking in the lines on Harry’s face, his short hair sleep-rumpled, Louis able to tell he’d just taken a beanie off and decided against combing his hair out after. He still hadn’t exactly mastered how to style his short hair, even though it had been a few weeks since he’d chopped it. Unless he was home with his family, he preferred leaving it covered up by a beanie and a hood. He looked incredibly cozy, a grey sweatshirt pulled over his bulked-up frame, his eyes soft-looking, whether with peace or exhaustion Louis couldn’t quite tell. He wished the computer screen did Harry’s eyes justice.

“Just finished, actually. M’meeting with some of the lads later on for the gym, and then I’m headin’ back to see you all after I eat lunch.”

“Jesus, Harry,” Louis frowned, leaning forward on his arms. “You must be so tired. You have time to sleep? I’ll make sure to have the girls settled tonight so you can get some rest, petal.”

“Nah,” Harry said, his smile easy. “I’ll be fine. M’taking my girls and my boy out to dinner tonight. Gotta celebrate the big performance.”

He was in a completely different country, but that didn’t mean Harry wasn’t proud as hell of his girls. He pressed his finger to his home screen, his iPhone lit up to show a picture of their three daughters on the beach, matching swimsuits and their smiles wide. Louis was tanned and beautiful, their youngest curled up in his arms fast asleep. Harry couldn’t help the smile on his face as he looked at his proudest achievement.

“I’ll let you go, baby. You should get the girls ready for school. Tell them I love them, yeah? And I promise I’ll be there tonight, bouquet of flowers and all. Tell Jess I’m so excited to see her.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Louis said, sticking his tongue out. “I’ll see you soon, H. Keep me updated.”

“Bye, honey,” Harry waved, leaning forward and showing all of his teeth in a smile. He was _so_ cute, and even though Louis had seen him just last weekend, he missed his better half.

 

Harry loved making promises, and he was pretty good at keeping them, too. To fans - he was always so good to his fans - so gentle and calm, but he tended to overexert himself to make them happy sometimes, whether it was spending long hours signing autographs outside his hotel at four in the morning, or adding new tour dates just because they wanted him to, and he never wanted to let down his fans. He loved promising his mother that he’d be home for important holidays, like Christmas and her birthday and Gemma’s birthday, and he usually was.

This was no different when he became a husband, a father to three beautiful little girls. He was late-night cuddles, he was ice cream trips after school when their firstborn had a bad first day of kindergarten and Harry wanted to make her smile, even though it meant she wouldn’t eat her supper later. He was lying on his tummy in front of the TV with the three girls piled on top of him, pretending to be asleep while they giggled like mad into his ear. He was a patient and kind husband, taking Louis out for surprise dinner dates after ensuring the girls were safe at Gemma’s house for the night, being there for cuddles even long after Louis had fallen asleep, making breakfast and lunch for Louis and the girls so he wouldn’t have to stress himself out cooking for the four of them while Harry was out, whether he was touring or at a signing or at an event that he couldn’t miss out on. He was a high profile celebrity, yes, but he was also a father, and Harry took these two roles very seriously and made sure that neither part of his life filtered into the other one.

Being a celebrity and a father brought on heavy challenges, challenges Louis and Harry would never have encountered if it was just the two of them. Louis knew Harry stressed himself out in order to make sure his family was safe. Their three girls were all under six years old - Jessa had just turned six, Angie was three, and little Lauren was only eight months old. All adopted, but that didn’t matter one bit, because Harry and Louis loved them with everything they had. Having three girls wasn’t exactly planned - Louis had always wanted a boy to play footie with in the yard - but their gender was out of their hands. They had been blessed with finding a surrogate to birth three beautiful babies, and they were so thankful every day to have them.

But Harry was constantly in protective Dad mode, and it would be incredibly sweet if he wasn’t so nervous all the time. The girls going to his concerts was an absolute _no_ \- on occasion, Jessa could hang out backstage with Lou and Lux, but she and Louis would always leave before the show ended, because things were legitimately crazy afterward and Harry wasn’t going to risk anything happening to his family. Although Jessa complained about it, she usually fell asleep halfway through the show anyway, so Louis would rock her gently until they had the car ready to take them home. Harry wouldn’t relax after the show until he had a text from Louis reading _Home safe. You did amazing babes, we love you so much. Drive safe xx. I’ll wait up for you._

 

When Harry was chosen for Dunkirk, he felt a whirlwind of emotions, and the first person he called was Louis. Louis was slightly bewildered when he first received the call at two in the morning, Harry crying and sputtering, his voice garbled with excitement and maybe a few celebratory shots with the other men who’d been chosen.

“I’m so _fucking_ proud of you, you know that?” was the first thing Louis said when Harry had finally come home, his long hair scraggly and in desperate need of a wash - he’d probably been wringing his hands through it all day, a nervous habit. Louis launched himself into Harry’s arms, Harry spinning him around and stumbling into the wall, the two of them shushing each other and giggling all the same, their hands traveling all over one another, their lips hot and swollen.

Louis knew saying goodbye to the girls was going to be difficult for his husband, even if Harry had done it countless times before. It would be different this time around - he wouldn’t be filming on the weekends, so he’d be home from Friday night to Sunday evening. Louis worried about the stress traveling so much would put his boy under, but Harry was adamant on being home as much as he could.

“If I was single it would be a different story,” Harry had said. The two of them were sharing a mug of tea in the kitchen, Harry making sandwiches for the two older girls and getting a bottle ready for Lauren, testing the temperature out on his wrist. “But m’not. I’ve got you, and the girls. M’not letting you take care of them all on your own.”

Louis looked down at the snoozing baby in his arms, kissing Lauren’s soft forehead, her tiny lips pursed and her long eyelashes fanning her face.

It was the night before Harry had to leave. He’d be getting the train early, around five in the morning, and Louis swore he’d wake up to give him a kiss goodbye, but Harry knew that nothing could get Louis out of bed that early, not even him.

Louis opened his mouth, the frowns on Harry’s face too sad for his liking, but then footsteps came tumbling down the hall, and Harry’s expression immediately changed from sour to happy, as it always did when the girls were around.

“My love,” he sighed, holding out his arms. He crouched down, Jessa perching on one leg while Angie wrapped her tiny arms around his neck, giving him a squeeze. Harry lifted the two girls effortlessly, Louis’ mouth watering only slightly at the very defined bulge in his arms - he’d been spending a lot of time in the gym to prepare, and it was _hot_. Harry being domestic turned on Louis more than it probably should.

“You girls gonna be good for your Papa, now? Are you going to listen to him and go to bed when you’re supposed to, right? And you’re gonna help with Lauren, right? Papa’s very patient, isn’t he? You’re gonna take him to the park and on walks and help him make sandwiches for lunch?”

Louis leaned against the tabletop, watching Harry hold his girls and listen to them babble, kissing their little noses and squeezing them gently.

“S’not like you’re really going off to war, pet,” Louis said, but even he could tell his voice was watery. He hadn’t really gotten emotional over Harry leaving until now. “We’re gonna see Dadda on the weekends, babes, s’like he’s never left,” he assured the girls, bouncing Lauren slightly. Harry set down the two oldest girls, wrapping his arms around Louis and nuzzling his face into Lauren’s small head. Louis relaxed into his embrace, the two of them enjoying a quiet moment before Harry headed out to film for three long months on a freezing beach, surrounded by soldiers, secrets, and detonated bombs.

He had never been more excited, really.

 

_That evening_

 

“Where’s Dadda?” Angela asked, holding out her arms for Louis to lift her out of her car seat. He had Lauren on his hip, her lips drooling onto his sweater. Louis wrapped her in his arms, closing the car door with his hip.

 

**_Where are you? Show starts in 20._ **

**_If you’re late I’m going to kill you._ **

**_Safe trip, honey. Text when you can. Love you, but I’m honestly really pissed at you._ **

 

Louis sat himself toward the back, knowing it would be easiest for Harry to get in and out without causing a scene. He’d _told_ Harry the show was at six, Harry _promised_ he’d be there. Louis helped Angela out of her coat, the little girl rifling through Louis’ bag for her doll. Louis adjusted Lauren on his lap, bouncing the baby slightly with anxiety. Harry was supposed to be there. His absence was very loud. He should be by Louis’ side right now, not wherever the hell he was.

“Are you _fucking_ -” Harry threw his bag on the ground, wincing until he realized his laptop was in the other leather bag on the seat beside him. He tapped out a message to Louis, his fingers basically punching the screen. He threw his beanie off, wringing his fingers through his hair anxiously, for once not caring about showing his hair off to the public. He was in a private waiting room waiting for his town car to come, and he was getting frantic. The Eurostar was down a train, which meant he had to wait another half hour to get the next one, and he was now officially running late. Louis was going to murder him.

_On the way, I love you. Give the girls a kiss from me I love you I love you I love you I’m sorry I’ll be there I love you._

He was anxious, and terrified that he’d miss the show. That was his one exception, his one rule, that his life as a celebrity never affected his life as a father. His daughter was performing her first ballet recital, and he was so proud of her, so proud of his little girl. He was supposed to be there with a bouquet of flowers, probably holding a sleepy, beautiful Lauren on his lap while his arm was slung over Louis’ shoulders, and Angie, his angel Angie, would probably be dancing along in the aisle, because she’d always aspired to be her older sister, even if she acted like she didn’t.

“Fucking hell,” Harry said, his face in his hands. He rubbed his eyes aggressively, not caring how much he’d suffer for it. He was bloody exhausted, the train was loud, and he couldn’t get an ounce of sleep. He was able to change into a white blouse and skinny jeans and boots, not wearing his usual sneaker/basketball short/leggings/sweatshirt combo that he liked to stay incognito in during filming. His knees bobbed up and down, his hair a complete mess and exhaustion throbbing behind his eyes.

10 minutes until showtime, and Louis was slumped in his seat. He felt defeated. He knew it wasn’t Harry’s fault - deep down he kept trying to tell himself this - but he was pissed. He knew Harry was the _best_ father in the world, hands down. He called nearly every night and talked to their girls before bed, he texted Louis every day, whether it was what he was up to or things he’d seen that reminded him of Louis. The texts took ages to finally send but once they did, Louis screenshotted all of them and sent his own reply back, along with pictures of the girls, and he knew Harry saved all of them, because Harry was so proud of his family, and Harry kept all of his promises when it came to his children and his husband, always.

It wasn’t his fault that he was a superstar, a future-award-winning actor, and a Dad all at once, but it was just a little tiresome. He promised he’d be there.

“I miss Daddy,” Angie whispered. She took a long swig of her apple juice, Louis wincing a little. Not that he minded taking his girls to the toilet when they were out, but it was always a bit of a hassle getting the two of them up and out of the room quietly, because Angie liked to babble.

“ _Gah!_ ” Lauren gurgled into Louis’ ear, slapping her tiny hands on his back. She continued making unintelligible sounds in a language only she understood, until Louis turned, shushing her gently. And, oh. There he was. His hair was a mess and it needed a good scrub, and he held a bouquet of slightly-wilted flowers that looked like they had been dropped a few times. His shirt was wrinkled from being in his leather bag all day - he had one for each shoulder, currently. Harry lifted Angela effortlessly, sitting down beside Louis and plopping her on his lap, turning and pressing a few kisses to Louis’ temple.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” he whispered, his voice carrying over the hush of the audience as the lights dimmed and the opening notes of _Swan Lake_ began to play. “I told you I’d be here, didn’t I?”

Louis blinked back the tears in his eyes, hiding his face in the crook of Harry’s neck. Harry’s shirt was only buttoned twice at the bottom, his defined chest open for the world to see. Harry smelled sort of stale, exactly as you’d expect someone would smell who was traveling all day, but he was warm and soft and his heart was beating under Louis’ ear, and he’d take that feeling any day, over anything. Harry was there, and he may or may not have shouted “That’s my girl!” at the top of his lungs after Jessa’s small, albeit important solo, completely blowing his “get in/get out without being seen” cover, and he might have clapped the loudest and whistled during the final bow, and crouched down at just the right time for Jess to launch herself into his arms, spinning her around and keeping his mouth pressed to her cheek.

He insisted on carrying Lauren out to the car, his other arm wrapped around Louis’ waist as the family walked out to the car, Harry got Lauren in her seat, then squeezed Louis into his chest, Louis wrapping his arms tightly around his husband’s waist.

“Told you I’d be here, didn’t I? I told you,” Harry said, a twinkle in his eye. Louis rolled his eyes, giggling when Harry leaned down to capture his lips, and it might have been the most romantic moment he’d ever had in a primary school parking lot. Just maybe. Because Harry was home. Even if he was a little late.

 


End file.
